Who Cares If You Step In Gum

I went around the corner to the local deli today to grab some lunch, and right before my very eyes some guy cocked his head upwards slightly and proceeded to spit a big blue-colored wad of gum in a gracefully arching trajectory that inconsiderately landed on the sidewalk right before my feet. I found it really hard to resist my urge to pick it back up and chuck it at him, but this is New York City; people seem to litter a lot here and some of them may be packing heat. (You’ve seen Law & Order, right?) What does any of this have to do with music? Absolutely nothing.

But on the other hand, some folks out there seem to think that there are composers just as inconsiderate to their audiences—trashing their ears with filthy dissonances and complicated, ungainly rhythms. Give me a break. Does anyone know of any composers sharpening their druthers simply to offend concertgoers? Brian Ferneyhough doesn’t set out to torture anyone. He’s not a sadist—just a normal guy who knows seriously way too much about the WWE (formally know as the World Wrestling Federation). All and all, composers are a harmless bunch, although, come to think of it, I did almost puke at a Francisco López concert, but that was more my fault than his. Heck, even the entropy-seekers toiling in the darkest realms of the noise scene fail to attain the elusive “brown note.” No harm done.

So the next time someone tells you that they’ve been sonically molested by some hellacious piece of contemporary music, simply roll your eyes and move on. When is everyone going to learn that one man’s junk is another one’s treasure—especially when it comes to music. This explains things like the 50-disc Merzbox and the Fresh Aire Collector’s Box, Vol. 1-8 by Mannheim Steamroller. My take is that neither artifact in question here is somehow diminished by the other’s existence, so maybe we can all just get along. Just as long as we can respect the fact that taste is only a personal quirk, not a show of superiority.